


Obligations

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, M/M, Polyamory, Surprise Kissing, birthday angst, i'm DELIGHTED that i've made that a tag, who DOESN'T want gay kisses for their birthday?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Its Virgil’s birthday, and the whole family offers him anything he wants. Virgil doesn’t want to inconvenience them so close to the holidays.Unfortunately (or maybe not) for him, nobody takes kindly to him describing himself as an “inconvenience”





	Obligations

Virgil wasn’t really looking forward to his birthday. Last year the others hadn’t even  _known_  it was his birthday. It wasn’t until almost month later, on Patton’s, that it came up in conversation, and Patton had insisted on folding Virgil’s birthday into his own party.

They’d blown out the candles together and the other’s had scrounged together presents – one of Patton’s old stuffed animals, a pocket book of coping mechanisms from Logan, and Roman gave him a Wreck-this-journal that Virgil presumed he’d intended to use for himself.

It had been kind of nice, if a little awkward, and the whole room with a faint air of guilt from the others. He expected more of the same for this year – the others fulfilling their social obligation with some small, meaningless trinkets

(Meaningless to  _them,_  of course, because Virgil had them stacked neatly next to each other on top of his dresser, along with Patton’s framed card, the now-empty gift card Logan had given him, and a copy of Roman’s Christmas carol, because he was a sentimental idiot)

Because that’s what birthday’s  _were,_  really -  a day everybody was socially obligated to pretend you were perfect and special and faultless. Which, yeah, Virgil did actually enjoy… on  _other peoples_ birthdays.

It wasn’t hard to do that for the other’s – it hadn’t been for a long time. They were…. They were  _wonderful_ , they were his family. He… he  _loved_  them. It wasn’t hard to pretend they were perfect for a day because they were already so amazing.

And it just made it more glaringly obvious that Virgil just… wasn’t.

He cringed away from his own thoughts, which happened a lot nowadays. A conditioned response, courtesy of Patton. It’d become hard to even think bad things about himself, when if he said them out loud he’d get forcibly cuddled into submission

And he wasn’t… awful. He was necessary, and useful and he could be nice sometimes, and he loved them.

He felt a small lump in his throat. He did  _really_ love them. So much. Probably too much, if he was being honest.

But just…  _comparing_  them, comparing his own stumbles in the dark at comfort and lackluster displays of affection and faltering attempts to take care of them in any meaningful way, he always seemed to just… fall short.

They still loved him in spite of that, miraculously, but all that meant was that they were going to spend the whole day talking about how great Virgil was when they all knew perfectly well Virgil was kind of asshole, and on his best days ranked somewhere between “tolerable” and “mildly pleasant.”

He was really hoping they didn’t stretch it out for the whole day. A cupcake and a few more little gifts Virgil could hoard and fret over like a middle school girl with a shrine in her locker, an hour at most of everybody uncomfortably exaggerating his place among them, and then they could move on to the Christmas things that everyone would obviously prefer to be doing.

As the dreaded day loomed closer, with no mention of plans for his birthday – and oh, god, what if they tried a  _surprise party,_ Virgil would actually die of mortification – Virgil was torn between hoping it meant they were going to stay relaxed and being a pessimist as usual.

The day before his birthday, he came to the commons in a normal scene; Roman and Logan with piles and piles of papers, some crumpled and some still in use. Patton was near them, watching a muted movie with subtitles, and occasionally sending the two of them fond looks.

What was decidedly  _not_  normal about the scene, was that the second Patton caught sight of him, he scrambled into action, pausing the movie and clearing his throat to get Roman and Logan’s attention. They all three looked at him, Patton and Roman both beaming, and even Logan with a small fond smile.

“What did I do?” said Virgil warily.

Patton’s smile took on a puzzled edge.

“Nothing, kiddo, we were just waiting for you. We’ve got a question,”

“…Okaaaaay,” said Virgil, the alarm bells in his head going from “be alert” to “threat imminent.”

“Do sit down, Virgil; there is no need to look like you are going to flee the room at a moments notice,” said Logan.

Virgil didn’t mention the fact that he kind of  _was_ kind of considering fleeing the room.

He moved to take the spot opposite the three of them, but Roman scooted around the coffee table so Virgil was forced between him and Logan, with Patton and his big eyes right across from him.

Cheater.

“You aren’t in trouble, Snow Fright, just sit down,” Roman laughed softly, slipping his hand in Virgil’s and smiling sweetly.

Virgil’s heart felt like it trembled just a bit.

He sat.

“So!” said Patton with a soft little clap, “Tomorrow’s your birthday!”

Virgil’s stomach twisted.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“And we would like to rectify last years mistake,” said Logan, “It was an oversight that should never have happened,”

_Ah_ , thought Virgil.  _This is a guilt thing_.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, “Last year was fine,”

Patton shook his head.

“It wasn’t fine to forget your birthday, Verge,” said Patton.

“You  _didn’t_ forget, you just didn’t know-”

“We should have  _asked,”_ said Roman, “Not waited for you to bring it up,”

“And regardless, the folding of your birthday into Patton’s was a stop-gap measure at best,” continued Logan. “We owe you better than that,”

A protest was bubbling up in his throat but Patton was already talking again.

“So this time, we wanted to  _ask_  you. What do you want to do on your birthday, Virgil?”

Virgil stopped short.

He’d been pretty sure they were going to do  _something_ , but it hadn’t occurred to him they’d try to make him part of the planning stage.

“I- um-”

Roman squeezed his hand and Virgil was torn between telling him to knock it off so he could think or telling him to never stop.

“Anything is- anything is fine, guys, we can just do the same thing again,”

His ideal scenario would be for none of them to waste their time, but he knew them too well by now to think he was getting away with saying that.

“There is nothing you want to do?” said Logan, “Roman is quite capable of producing a wide variety of experiences. A carnival does not seem your style, but a zoo, perhaps? Or a play?”

“We can do anything you want, Virge, anything at all!” said Patton.

“You don’t have to go out of your way to-”

“It isn’t out of our  _way_ ,” said Roman incredulously. “This is the plan! Plan A, first priority. We had no intention of doing anything but whatever  _you_  wanted on your birthday,”

“It’s almost Christmas,” Virgil protested weakly, “We don’t have time-”

Logan looked baffled.

“Why would I have made Christmas plans on top of your birthday? I am very good at avoiding scheduling conflicts,”

“That’s not- That’s not my point,”

“I’m sorry, Virgil, I just don’t understand what’s wrong?” said Patton softly, reaching out and laying his hand over top of Virgil’s and Roman’s still clasped fingers.

“You don’t  _have_  to do  _anything,_  that’s what I’m saying-”

“‘Have to?’” said Roman sharply, and Patton and Logan also froze at the same time.

“I- Yeah?”

The three of them exchanged indiscernible glances.

“What?” said Virgil.

“Kiddo,” said Patton, and Virgil shrank back because Patton- Patton sounded  _angry_.

“Do you really think that?” he said, his voice uncharacteristically flat.

“Think what?” said Virgil.

“Patton is inquiring as to whether you truly believe that this ‘Plan A’ for your birthday is something we are offering out of obligation,” said Logan, looking pointedly at the wall and pressing his lips tight in displeasure

Virgil stared at him incredulously.

He paused to think. Because he knew what he  _thought_  the answer was – yes,  _obviously –_ but judging form their responses he was apparently very wrong.

“Isn’t- isn’t that the whole point of birthdays?”

“Is that how you feel about our birthdays?” said Patton, and he seemed to be relaxing, though he still didn’t look happy.

“It’s… different,” said Virgil weakly.

“Why is it different, sweetheart?” said Patton.

“C’mon, Pat,” said Virgil, “You- you know what I mean,”

“I don’t,” said Patton firmly, and he got up and came around the coffee table, sitting right next to Roman and cupping Virgil’s face, “I don’t know, honey. You’re gonna have to help me understand,”

Virgil swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“On your birthday,” he started slowly, “Everybody talks about how great you are and how much they love you,”

Patton’s eyes had gone a little shiny. He nodded for Virgil to keep going and Virgil winced.

“Don’t make me say it,” he said, and he did have the decency to be ashamed of how pathetic he sounded.

“Say  _what,_ Virgil,”

Virgil couldn’t handle the look in Patton’s eyes, heartbroken and _disappointed_  but when he tried to turn to Roman and Logan they both looked equally stricken.

He looked at the table instead. Sighed, long and deep.

“It’s easy to say nice things about you on your birthday’s. There’s- there’s nice things  _to_  say,”

Logan reached over then, almost like a reflex, grabbing the edge of Virgil’s sleeve and gripping it with white knuckles.

Three hands, three points of contact. But he didn’t feel boxed in. It was too much and he wanted it to never end.

“It’s embarrassing,” he said, “To know… to know you’ve gotta spend so much time trying to come up with something to say about me,”

He kept staring at the table. It was humiliating, telling them – letting them realize he  _knew_ , knew that it was all a well-meaning charade. Knew they were just  _humoring_  him.

“You’re an  _idiot,_ ” someone hissed.

“ _Logan!”_  snapped Patton.

“‘Come up with something?’” snapped Logan, “You think it is an  _effort_ to compliment you? To find things about you that are good and admirable and- and  _beautiful,_ for goodness  _sake_ , Virgil, are you  _blind_?”

And then, before Virgil could unpack any of  _that,_  Logan snatched the front of Virgil’s hoodie with his free hand and dragged him into a searing kiss.

It was over before Virgil could process it, but Logan didn’t let go, just kept his grip on Virgil’s clothes and glared at him.

“Uh-what?” Virgil squeaked.

That seemed to snap Logan out of it, and he released Virgil as his ears turned cherry red.

“I-” he stuttered, all the anger replaced with a deer-in-headlights expression, “I merely thought to- illustrate- I apologize. That was rude, and inappropriate; I misplaced my, um, figurative ‘cold,’”

“It’s “lost my cool,’ and there was nothing cold about  _that_ ,” said Roman in a distinctly strained voice.

Virgil was still in shock, which doubled when he turned towards Roman’s voice and – and the look on his  _face_. Pain, maybe, but there was something dark in his eyes that didn’t seem the slightest bit displeased. Virgil was starting feel dizzy.

He couldn’t keep looking – Roman’s expression was making something twist in his stomach that was definitely  _not_  anxiety.

He turned to Patton but Patton’s eyes were perfect circles of astonishment and his cheeks were rapidly turning bright pink.

Nobody seemed to want to break the silence, least of Virgil, who was still not entirely certain he wasn’t having some kind of a bizarre dream.

Patton’s face took on a feverish expression, and the blush was now so intense he looked a little ill. He grabbed Virgil’s sleeve with one shaking hand and spoke.

“Virgil, can I kiss you?”

Virgil made an inarticulate noise of alarm.

Patton didn’t move any closer, or ask again. He just held onto Virgil’s arm and looked him right in the eyes, earnest and unwavering.

“Yes,” said Virgil suddenly, which was definitely not what he’d  _meant_ to say but did it really matter when it meant Patton was kissing him so sweetly?

This one lasted slightly longer, but Virgil still couldn’t bring himself to kiss back – he felt like if made one wrong move this entire thing would shatter like the illusion it surely had to be.

Patton broke away but laid a trail of tiny, chaste kisses from the side of Virgil’s mouth up to his temple, where he pressed his cheek and let out a shaky breath.

Patton pulled back but Virgil’s arms weren’t cold for a moment before Roman was right there, warm and firm and  _staring_.

“Want the full set?” he joked, but there was no mistaking the vulnerability in his eyes, or the way he looked at Virgil like he wanted to never let him out of his sight again.

Virgil found his voice had finally given out entirely, and all he could do was give a stunned nod.

They were sitting, but that didn’t stop Roman from lifting Virgil up and pulling him as close as possible. Where Logan had been firm and a little sharp, and Patton soft as down and twice as gentle, Roman was warm and his mouth clung like syrup.

Virgil made a slightly desperate noise and the twin intakes of breath from either side of him finally broke him out of the kiss-induced stupor he’d been in.

He pulled away – and then resisted the urge to come right back when Roman’s mouth chased his – sitting back on his heels and trying his best to wrap his head around just what was going on.

“Am I dreaming?” he said, breathless, even though he was almost positive he wasn’t. Virgil’s dreams could get  _bizarre_ , but they always seemed perfectly reasonable while he was still asleep.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” said Roman.

“No, Virgil,” said Patton. “You aren’t dreaming,”

Logan cleared his throat. “While I would not have planned to do so in such a way, I hope our impromptu… affectionate displays have made clear that we –  _ahem_ – care for you very deeply,”

“We  _love_  you, Virgil,” said Patton, kissing Virgil on the nose and sending Virgil’s heart leaping into his throat at their proximity. “It’s not an obligation to show you how much. We do it because we  _want_ to, not because we have to,”

Were there good panic attacks? Because Virgil couldn’t breathe or think and his chest hurt but he was- he was happy,  _so_ happy. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense. There was nothing special about him. He was just him – just Virgil. It didn’t make any sense.

He realized he didn’t care at all.

“You said-” he started, and his face, already on fire, prickled with the force of his blush from how thoroughly debauched he sounded. He cleared his throat and started again.

“You said we can do whatever I want? Tomorrow?”

“Anything at all, Bashful,” said Roman.

Virgil took a deep, steadying breath.

“This,” he said firmly, “I want this,”

“Done,” said Patton instantly.

“Does that mean we have to wait till tomorrow to kiss you again?” said Roman, grinning slyly.

“You’d better not,” muttered Virgil, and Roman’s answering laugh warmed him all the way to his toes.

“Oh, and before I forget,” said Roman.

He turned to Logan, stared firmly at the ceiling, and announced, “You look  _really_  hot when you’re angry,”

Logan choked on air, and Patton let out a shrill, delighted giggle. Virgil was surprised to find he’d made a nearly identical sound.

“I, um… thank you, Roman,”

Between Logan’s blushing, Roman’s grin, Patton’s giggles and whatever soppy, fond expression Virgil was almost certainly wearing, they were probably approaching a gay singularity.

When they plopped him down in the middle of it on the couch, he decided there were definitely worse ways to go.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me at tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com because i thrive on attention


End file.
